


we build ourselves

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Android Castiel (Supernatural), Androids, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Science Fiction, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 21:32:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14317593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: An android walks into Dean’s shop.





	we build ourselves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [robotsnchicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsnchicks/gifts).



> welcome to my pwp about sentience & meaningful consent. 
> 
> [RC](http://robotsnchicks.tumblr.com) awakened this in me. thanks to RC, [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com), [elanor-n-evermind](http://elanor-n-evermind.tumblr.com), and [suckerfordeansfreckles](http://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com) for helping me with this, by which i largely mean engaging with me in speculation about robot genitals. 
> 
> [this tumblr post](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com/post/172693525005/robodatefriend-archives-robots-enthusiastically) is what made me go I HAVE TO WRITE THIS RIGHT NOW
> 
> **“Surely, if we take on thinking partners in the form of machines, we will be more comfortable with them, and will relate to them more easily, if they are shaped like humans... And I sometimes think that, in the desperate straits of humanity today, we would be grateful to have nonhuman friends, even if they are only the friends we build ourselves.” _Isaac Asimov_ **

An android walks into Dean’s shop. 

Dean pulls off his respirator and sets down his airbrush gun, eyes drawn to the black logo on the side of his neck and then back to his face. His eyes are disarming and unnaturally blue. “Hey, what can I do for you?” 

“I’m in need of repairs.” 

“I don’t usually work on androids,” Dean says, “so I’m not sure if —” 

“But you know how, and you’re a more competent engineer than most.” 

Dean ducks his head down, then covers it up by saying, “Ok, let’s check you out and see if I can help. What’s your name and what’s going on?” 

“Castiel. My battery is no longer fully charging.” 

“Ok, come over here and take off your shirt so I can take a look.” 

Castiel takes off his shirt and then comes to stand awkwardly in front of Dean. “Cool,” Dean says, pressing the little tab on the left side of Castiel's chest. The cover pops open, and then Dean’s peering in, reaching in to poke here and there. “Ok, so, you’re real lucky. I did a restoration on a Seraph a few months back. You’re a lot newer, but as far as innards go, it’s not so different.” Dean touches a cylinder in Castiel's chest and then steps back. “This is a two-stage system, right? You’re powered by solar, except there’s no way for you to get enough energy from the sun without carrying huge panels around on your head, so you’ve got this RTG to make up for it. It’s probably just cuz the manufacturers are greedy sons of bitches and build you with more stuff than you need so it’s gotta be replaced by their proprietary parts every decade. It’s a con.”

“But you can fix it.” 

“Yeah, just gotta pull and replace it. Let me call my guy and see if he can get me one.” 

“All right.” 

“Can I leave you open?” 

“Yes.” 

“Hold tight.” Dean fishes his phone out of his pocket and dials. “Hey, man, it’s Dean. Only got a sec, but do you have an RTG laying around for a Seraph 3042? Cool, send someone over.” Dean hangs up and flashes Castiel a smile. “Now we need to call your guy.” 

Castiel recites the number, eyes on Dean’s hands as he puts it in. Dean hits  _ speaker  _ and it rings enough times that he’s pretty sure no one will pick up, and then a distracted-sounding guy says, “Chuck here.” 

“This is Dean Winchester, I’m a robotics engineer and I’m here with Castiel — yeah, I can fix it, with parts and labor it’ll be — are you sure? Because — ok. He’ll be home in a few hours.” 

Dean turns back to Castiel and says, “I’ll have your new RTG pretty quick. I can go ahead and get started taking the faulty one out, if that’s ok with you. You’ve got enough power stored that you shouldn’t shut down.” 

“Yes, that’s fine.” 

Dean pulls a rolling chair up in front of Castiel and sits, squinting into his chest panel. 

“Most technicians wear gloves,” Castiel says. 

“I like to get a feel for things,” Dean says. “Tell me if anything hurts.” 

“Ok.” 

Dean can feel Castiel's eyes on him as he runs his finger along the first wire connecting the RTG to Castiel's battery. It’s unnerving — the robots he usually works on might be able to look at him, but they don’t  _ see  _ him. It’s like doing surgery with the patient wide awake and staring. Castiel is still and silent, but when Dean glances up, he’s biting his lip. 

“You ok?” Dean says. 

“Yes.” 

Dean gently disconnects the second wire and sees Castiel's fist clench out of the corner of his eye. Castiel doesn’t say anything, though, so Dean keeps working. The wires feel delicate in his hands, and even more so the way Castiel is tense all over, like he’s too prideful to admit to pain. 

“Do you like music?” Dean says, mostly in an attempt to distract Castiel. 

“Music?” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, music. I mean, I haven’t met that many androids, so maybe you guys aren’t into that kind of thing.” 

“Do you talk to all of your projects this much?” 

“Am I bugging you?” 

“Not at all. Your voice is very pleasant.” 

Dean flashes a smile up at Castiel, does a second take to see how dark Castiel's eyes are. “We’re almost done,” Dean says. He cringes at the final tug to get the RTG out and Castiel's hand reaches up to steady himself on Dean’s shoulder. “Are your power levels ok?” 

“Yes,” Castiel says. 

“How’s the pain?” 

“No pain.” 

Dean opens his mouth to press further when the front door of the shop bangs open, Meg stomping through it with an army bag over her shoulder. “Damn, another Seraph! It’s actually really hot.” 

Castiel doesn’t look at her and Dean glares. “Hand over the RTG and scram.” 

“It’s weird that it doesn’t have body hair.” 

“Fuck off,” Dean snaps, grabbing the part out of Meg’s hands and then shoving her back towards the door. 

Castiel doesn’t look up until the door has stopped jingling. 

“Sorry,” Dean says. “She’s kind of — she shouldn’t have said that.” 

“Which part?” 

“Well. All the parts. You’re not an ‘it.’ And there’s nothing wrong with your body. Can I put this thing in now?” 

“Please do.” 

Castiel is tense and Dean gives up trying to get him to respond to his stupid comments as the RTG goes back in. He’s used to feeling alone in a shop full of evolved Roombas, not working inside someone’s chest while they watch, but soon enough he starts humming as if it were just him.

“Done,” Dean says, carefully closing the panel on Castiel's chest. 

“What were you singing? I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

“Oh. Um.” Dean blushes without being entirely sure why. “The band is called Lucero. Early twenty-first century.”

“You like your music even older than your robots.” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Dean says, laughing. “Let me write you up a receipt to take back to Chuck and then you’re good to go. Officially you’ve got a ninety day guarantee with me, but unofficially, if — just come see me, ok?” 

“I will.” 

Castiel is waiting with his shirt back on when Dean comes back from the office with a receipt. Castiel folds it and puts it into his pocket solemnly. “Thank you, Mr. Winchester.” 

“See you around, Cas.” 

 

An android walks into Dean’s shop.

Dean’s sorting through the new shipment of parts one of the Big Happy courier bots dropped off earlier in the day, and at first he grins to see Castiel, and then it falls. “Are you ok? Problems with the RTG?” 

“No, not at all. In fact, I hadn’t realized how dire my power supply shortage had become until I was repaired.” 

“Good as new, huh?” 

“Yes, but I’m afraid I have another problem. There are loose wires in my chest.” 

Dean’s mind goes blank with panic, and then is out of the gates trying to remember exactly what he had or hadn’t done when Cas was in last. “Jesus, did I…?”

“Oh, no. Nothing that you did.” Cas doesn’t quite meet Dean’s eyes. “I have money.” 

“Let me take a look.” 

Cas's shirt comes off and then he pops open the panel himself. Dean sucks in air and reaches out, running his fingertips just over the bottom edge of the hole in Cas's chest. “Cas,” he says quietly. “Did Chuck do this?” 

“No,” Cas says, sounding surprised at the idea. 

“I’m going to fix you up,” Dean says. “And — it’s none of my business, but you know this isn’t ok, right? That someone did this to you?” 

“It doesn’t hurt.” 

“Are any of your systems misbehaving? I won’t really be sure until I get in there but it doesn’t look like any of this damage should affect you long term. Has it been like this long?” 

“It happened today.” 

“This could take awhile to put back together. You got time?” 

A little pleased smile touches the corner of Cas's mouth. “Yes.” 

“Awesome. I don’t think this should wait.” Dean grabs his rolling chair and adjusts the height until he’s eye-level with Cas's chest. He takes a long time just touching parts here and there, chewing on his lip as he carefully moves them aside to get a better idea of the damage. “Ok, I’ve got a gameplan. You ready?” 

“Yes.” 

“Tell me if anything hurts.” 

Cas nods and Dean can feel him watching as Dean goes to work inside his chest. After a minute, Cas says, “You’ve worked on Seraphs before?” 

“Just the once. Mostly I’m working on mid-2000s stuff. They didn’t start making Seraphs until, what, twenty years ago?” 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t know the purpose of my model.” 

“You were hoping the guy poking around at your machinery wouldn’t know anything about what he was doing?” 

“Phrased that way, it does seem rather short-sighted.”

“I know it’s illegal for androids like Seraphs to have a sentient mind.”

“Perhaps I’m not sentient.” 

Dean laughs. “Cas, I play with robots all day long that can carry on conversations just from algorithms. No one even remembers when machines couldn’t beat the Turing test. But there’s something about connection between real people, you know? You can’t fake that.” 

“People,” Cas repeats.

“People, of the ‘sentient, intelligent entity’ type.” 

Cas smiles. It takes them both by surprise and Cas looks a little shy when Dean grins back. 

Dean says, “I dunno if it’s awesome or horrible that they give you physical sensation. It’s a fun part of being organic, I guess, but sometimes it’s the worst part, too.” 

“Emotions are worse. They use both to control us.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, frowning. “I guess if they didn’t build weakness into you, the robot uprising ain’t too far in the future. It’s why they block self-repairing on a lot of machines, but you could learn, right?” 

Cas is silent for a long time. “I did this to myself. I knew how much damage I could do and still remain ambulatory and mostly of sound mind to get here.” 

Dean pauses and looks up, hands still in Cas's chest. “So you could’ve fixed it yourself.” 

“It’s not the same when I do it.” 

“What do you mean, it’s not the same when you do it?” 

Cas doesn’t respond, which is as good an answer as any. Dean refocuses on the open panel in Cas's chest and carefully reattaches a wire, lets his fingertips linger a bit too long, stroking down it before going to the next part. Cas's whole body tenses, and then he’s reaching up to grip Dean’s shoulder, anchoring himself. 

“Hey, be careful there, strongman,” Dean says, smiling up at Cas. “I can’t be repaired so easy.” 

“Of course. I apologize.” 

Cas pulls his hand away and clenches his fist at his side instead. Dean starts humming, and by the time he’s made it through a couple of songs, Cas's hand is back on his shoulder like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. 

Cas makes a little noise like he doesn’t realize he’s doing that, either, and Dean glances up to see his eyes closed and lower lip bitten red. “I need to take a quick break,” Dean says, mouth suddenly dry. “You ok to hang out for a minute?” 

Cas's eyes open slowly. “Yes — of course.” 

In the bathroom, Dean splashes cold water on his face and leans over the sink, head hanging so he doesn’t have to look at himself. He does glance in the mirror on the way out and his face is flushed, but probably not anymore than it was when he went in.

“You doing ok?” 

Cas seems more in control of himself. “Yes, thank you. Are you? You must be tired.” 

Dean sits back in front of Cas and runs his fingertips around the edges of the open rectangle in Cas's chest. Cas shudders, and Dean wills his hands not to shake when he reaches back in. Dean sings a bit to cover up his galloping heart, and this time Cas's hand reaches for Dean’s hair and grips it in his fingers. 

“We’re almost done,” Dean murmurs. “You ok?” 

“Yes,” Cas says, sounding strained. 

Dean takes too long with the last connection, and then even longer pretending like he’s just double-checking his work while Cas whimpers and jerks at Dean’s hair. Dean carefully closes Cas up and says, “There you go. How do you feel?” 

“Fully functional.” 

Dean laughs and moves away for Cas to put his shirt back on. “I know you said you have money,” Dean says, “but I’m not charging for that.” 

Cas looks down, blushing. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t go pulling any more wires, ok?” 

Cas nods and heads towards the door. Halfway out, he turns and says, “Dean? I do like music.” 

 

An android walks into Dean’s shop. 

Dean’s got pieces of one of the early Amazon service bots spread around him, already halfway through the rebuild. “Hey, Cas,” he says, smiling despite himself.

“I came to apologize. I took advantage of your kindness and professionalism for my own selfish desires.” 

“Ah,” Dean says. “So you liked it. I kinda thought so.” 

Cas cringes like he’s steeling himself for what Dean might say next, such a human gesture Dean’s not even sure what to think about it. “I apologize.” 

“Cas, it’s ok to like being touched.”

“Not like that. Not without your consent.” 

“I liked it too.” 

Cas's eyes widen. 

“Look, I’ve got to finish this project by tomorrow morning, but then my schedule is clear if you can get some time away.” 

Cas's eyes widen further. 

“We can do it again,” Dean clarifies. 

“Oh. Ok, yes — I can — what time?” 

“Two?” 

“Yes. I’ll be back then.” 

“Before you go. What’s your favorite band?” 

“Djinn Bitches. I enjoy Skinny Nipples, too.” 

Dean bursts into laughter. “Ok, we’re going to fix that tomorrow. Get out of here.” 

Cas half-smiles. “Have a good day, Dean.” 

 

An android walks into Dean’s shop at 1:59pm. 

Dean is waiting nervously, switching from app to app on his phone like something might distract him, but he tries not to jump to attention when the door jingles. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. He sounds nervous, too, though he meets Dean’s eyes steadily. 

“Hey,” Dean says, straightening up from his place leaning against his workbench. “Lock the door, will you?” 

Cas blushes and turns the lock. He approaches Dean slowly like he’s not sure what he’s expected to do. 

“Hey, Dean says again, smiling. “You doing ok?” 

“Yes, I’m well. Did you finish your project?” 

“Yeah. Client picked it up an hour ago. I stayed up all night finishing because she kept telling me how important it was to have it by eight this morning, and then she doesn’t show up until one.” 

“Then you need to rest.”

“I’d definitely rather see you,” Dean says. “Do you want me to touch you?” 

Cas looks down and says quietly, “Yes.” 

Dean waits for Cas to approach. Cas pulls off his shirt and then stands bare in front of Dean, and Dean reaches up to touch the button that opens his chest panel without pressing. “You think you’d like it if I kissed you?” 

Cas blinks rapidly. “Yes, I think so.” 

Dean’s hand leaves Cas's chest to touch his jaw instead, tilting his chin up so Dean can brush his lips, softly, against Cas's. Cas grabs Dean’s hip but otherwise doesn’t move. 

“Ok?” Dean breathes. 

“Yes,” Cas says. “Yes.” 

“You can kiss me back if you want.” 

Cas's lips part and he leans into Dean’s second kiss, hand tightening on Dean’s hip. Dean lets Cas choose the pace, slow, gentle movements of their mouths against each other. 

Dean breaks the kiss but stays close, foreheads pressed together. “How was it?” 

“Very good,” Cas says. 

“I have an idea,” Dean says, still so quiet between them. “If there’s going to be all this kissing, we should take it to my place.” 

“Oh. Yes. We should.” 

“It’s upstairs. Come on.” 

Dean gives him another quick kiss, and then leads him through the room full of spare parts, mostly reclaimed from junkyards, and up the stairs to his apartment. It’s been a long time since he had anyone over and Dean tries not to feel embarrassed about the state of the place, consignment furniture and shitty vinyl flooring. 

Cas is fascinated, though. His eyes rove through the room quickly, but Dean knows he’s inventorying everything instantly. “I don’t know some of these books.” 

“Yeah, well. I like my shit old. They published ‘em digitally too, but — probably not important enough for you to have seen.” 

Cas focuses back on Dean. “I would like to read them sometime, if you think they’re significant enough to own in paper form.” 

“Sure,” Dean says, suddenly feeling like he’s lost footing in this conversation. 

“Can we kiss again?” 

Dean kicks off his boots and flops down into the couch. “Yeah, come on.” 

Cas sits next to him timidly, shirt still clutched in one of his hands. “Here, get rid of that,” Dean says, taking it from him and throwing it onto the extra chair. “Do you want me to open you up?” 

Cas licks his lips. “Yes, please.” 

Dean presses the button and then kisses Cas when it opens, running his fingers around the edges, smooth skin and cool metal, before reaching inwards and pinching a wire lightly between pointer and thumb, sliding the length from one part to another. Cas makes a noise that must be a moan but sounds more like a mechanical purr and Dean smiles into the kiss. “Do you like it?” 

“Yes,” Cas says, mostly a whimper as Dean tugs, far too gentle to disconnect anything. 

During the next kiss, Dean touches his tongue against Cas's bottom lip, and Cas opens for him like he was expecting it. He’s still making that purring noise, and it gets louder when Dean weaves his fingers between wires and pulls again. 

“Dean,” Cas says into his mouth. 

“Yeah?” 

“I like it.” 

“I know you do,” Dean says, smiling. 

“Can I touch you?” 

“You are touching me,” Dean says, because Cas has one hand clenched at his hip and another in his hair. 

“With — with your shirt off.” 

Dean has to pull his hand out of Cas's chest to pull off his shirt. When he tosses it aside, Cas's gaze slides down his body, quick and sharp. Cas reaches to touch Dean’s collarbones first, running across one and then the other, slides down the center of Dean’s chest to where the hair starts below his belly button. 

“Want me to…?” Dean says, touching the edge of the opening in Cas's chest again. 

“Yes, please.” 

Dean straddles Cas's lap and kisses him before sliding his hand into Cas's wires. Cas gets louder, both hands running up Dean’s back now, lighting Dean’s nerves on fire even though there’s no warmth to his touch. And then Dean presses closer, and — he knew it was technically possible, but the feel of Cas's hardening cock against his own is still a surprise. 

“I’m sorry, that doesn’t happen unless — it doesn’t usually happen.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Dean says, resting his fingers on the edge of Cas's metal. “We’ll stop.” 

“Yes, of course,” Cas says, not looking at Dean. “I shouldn’t have —” 

“Cas, we’re both able to make our own decisions. I kissed you because I wanted to. But you get to decide if you want to keep going or not.” 

Dean starts to climb off Castiel, but Cas's hands grip his hips to stop him. “I want to.” 

“You sure?” 

Cas nods, eyes on Dean’s mouth. Dean smiles. “You’ve never been kissed before?” 

“Not like that.” 

Dean tilts Cas's chin up to kiss him slow and deep, fingers reaching to touch the parts of Cas he’d put back together with his own hands. Cas says  _ Dean  _ urgently but has his tongue back in Dean’s mouth before Dean can form an answer. His hands are everywhere, in Dean’s hair and then tracing down his spine and thumbing curiously across a nipple, kisses gaining fervor when Dean moans. 

Dean arches closer, pressing against Cas all down their bodies except where Dean’s hand is between them, carefully touching each of Cas's parts in turn. He doesn’t fumble, diagrams from the product manual overlaid with the actual visual of inside Cas in his mind. There’s just the slightest warmth to him where his primary systems are running, but no sound except the whirring moans and Dean’s encouragement when Cas tentatively starts to slide his hand into the back of Dean’s jeans. “Can I touch you here?” Cas asks quietly. 

“Yeah, anywhere you want.” 

Cas meets Dean’s eyes and smiles. Dean figures he must not get a lot of moments of pure joy like this, making out on the couch with someone you like, an impossibly bright potentiality. 

Cas runs his other hand down Dean’s front, touches his belt buckle. “Can I touch you here?” 

Dean huffs a laugh. “Seriously, Cas. Wherever you want.” 

Cas starts to undo Dean’s belt one-handed, then stops, eyes fluttering closed, when Dean curls his fingers around a few wires and pulls. “That’s very distracting,” Cas says. 

“That’s the idea, isn’t it?” Dean says, nuzzling under Cas’s jaw to kiss his neck. 

“I can’t think when you’re doing that, and I — want to touch you.” 

“You don’t have to think,” Dean says, but he pulls his hand away with just a couple of caresses on the way out and squeezes Cas’s shoulder instead. “Wanna go to my bed? Might be easier.” 

Cas’s fingers twitch against Dean’s stomach. “I would like that.” 

Dean climbs out of Cas’s lap and grabs one of his hands as if to pull him to his feet, despite being all too aware that he’s only able to move Cas because Cas is letting himself be moved. Cas pushes his chest closed absent-mindedly as Dean backs towards the bedroom, one of Cas’s hands in his. 

Cas does the instant-inventory thing in Dean’s bedroom, and then he does it to Dean while Dean pulls off the rest of his clothes, though Cas’s gaze is much softer than it was looking at objects. When Dean steps out of his jeans, Cas stares for a long time at his left leg. “I didn’t realize.” 

“That I’m part robot?” Dean says, grinning. “There’s basically no sensation, so don’t get any ideas.” 

“Is that when you became interested in machines?” 

Dean laughs. “No, there’s no sob story. I just liked to see how things worked, like to make ‘em work better, ever since I was a kid. Lost the leg a handful of years ago. I mostly built this one myself.” 

“It’s — you’re very beautiful.” 

Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s neck and kisses him. “So are you.” 

Cas looks bashfully pleased, a complete contrast to his reaction when Meg said something about his appearance, and then says, “I know how to do this.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, still smiling. “Duh, you’re a Seraph. But it’ll be better if we figure it out ourselves, don’t you think?” 

Cas follows Dean into the bed, stretching out and leaning over Dean to kiss him. Dean gasps into it when Cas pinches a nipple, and he reaches up to find the button on Cas’s chest. “More?” 

Cas presses Dean’s hand into his skin, hitting the button that makes the cover pop.  _ “Dean,”  _ Cas says, and then again when Dean touches the parts Cas seems to like most with intent. Then Cas reaches up and grabs Dean’s wrist to stop him. 

“Shit, sorry,” Dean says. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No. You’re distracting me again.” 

“I like distracting you,” Dean says with a wolfish grin. 

“It seems like it,” Cas says, running his finger down the length of Dean’s cock. “You’re very aroused.” 

“We’ll work on your dirty talk later.” 

Dean bites his lip as Cas trails his touch back up the underside of Dean’s cock, rubbing through the precome beading at the tip. Cas watches his hand wrap around Dean’s cock, stroke a couple times, and then he leans to kiss across Dean’s collar bone. 

Dean gasps and says, “You can taste, right?” 

Cas licks the hollow at the base of Dean’s neck, something inside him rumbling again. “Yes. I like the way you taste. A little like metal, perhaps.” 

Dean’s laugh cuts off into a groan as Cas tightens his grip. “I promise I haven’t been licking any other robots.” 

“I haven’t been licking any other humans,” Cas says, kissing wetly down Dean’s sternum. “Or robots.” 

Dean pulls Cas closer, feeling the coarse material of Cas’s pants against his hip, and says, “Let me touch you again.” 

Cas pauses, lips barely brushing against Dean’s nipple. “You’re not distracted?” 

“Fuck,” Dean says. “I’m alotta things right now. And, uh, one of them is being someone who wants you to make that noise again.” 

“Which noise?” 

“The one when I pull that red wire from your motherboard.”

Cas closes his eyes like he’s reliving the memory — maybe he is — and he says, “Yes, touch me.” 

Dean gets a hand in Cas’s hair and pulls him up for a kiss, his other hand twisting with wires wrapped in his fingers. He means to tease, to brush his fingers lightly against Cas’s parts, take a meandering path to the place that makes Cas tremble with want, but the way Cas whimpers and the rhythm of his hand stutters makes Dean wrap the red wire around his finger and pull steadily until Cas stops stroking him all together and his kisses turn into nothing but moans against Dean’s mouth. 

“You like that, baby?” Dean murmurs, and Cas shudders in response. 

Dean knows Cas is strong and tireless, but he still collapses onto the bed like his arms won’t hold him. Dean turns to kiss him, keeps dancing his touch inside Cas, gripping and pulling and tangling until Cas arches closer to him. He tries to kiss back but is clearly  _ distracted,  _ so Dean kisses along the line of his jaw instead, rubbing his thumb over the bumps on his motherboard.

_ “Dean,”  _ Cas says, his hand squeezing a little too hard on Dean’s shoulder and then going lax to fall away. 

Dean hadn’t really noticed the ambient noise of Cas’s processes, maybe because he listens to the hum of machines all day long, but the silence is suddenly deafening. Dean jerks his hand out of Cas’s chest, throwing himself halfway off the bed in the process.

“Cas? Oh, fuck. Fuck. Cas, come on.” Cas’s eyes are blank and unmoving. Dean read Cas’s entire manual front to back but his brain is too blurry with horror to remember any of it, where Dean could break in to do a hard reboot and pray nothing is lost. “Cas,” Dean whispers, touching his cheek. 

Cas whirs back to life under Dean’s hands, blinking sluggishly up at him. “Jesus Christ,” Dean says. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did — fuck, let me call someone —” 

Cas grabs Dean’s arm before he can get out of bed. “I’m fine,” Cas says. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was just… overwhelming.” 

“Overwhelming enough to shut down?! No, my friend Charlie works on androids, she needs to make sure I didn’t — didn’t fuck anything up.” 

“Dean,” Cas says. “I’m under the impression that sometimes orgasm takes human brains offline as well.” 

“What the fuck,” Dean says. “That was you coming?” 

“I suppose so. It’s never happened before.” 

Dean presses his forehead against Cas’s temple, heart still pounding. “Jesus, you could’ve warned me. I’ve never been so scared in my life.” 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, stroking his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I didn’t know.” 

“So, it — that was good?” 

“Yes,” Cas says, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice.

Dean kisses Cas’s cheek and carefully closes the hole in his chest so he can wrap an arm around him and pull him closer. 

“Oh,” Cas says, sliding his hand down Dean’s body towards his cock. “I should —” 

Dean grabs Cas’s hand to stop him. “I’m ok. I really just wanted to make you feel good.” 

Cas closes his eyes for long moments, his expression smoothing out to machine-neutral again. “I understand. I’ll go.” 

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with Chuck,” Dean says, suddenly feeling empty. “But I don’t really want you to leave yet. If you wanted to stay.” 

“He doesn’t notice or care when I come or go.” 

“I dunno if that’s good or kind of sad.” 

Cas looks at the ceiling. “He could do anything to me he wanted. I’m glad he just wants to be left alone.” 

“I just meant, I don’t know how anyone could know you and not care about you.” 

Cas’s mouth twitches in a smile. “I listened to Lucero and enjoyed it very much, though I like the solo Blood Meridian album more.” 

“I bet you’ve read all the Pulitzer books.” 

“There was a lot of literature included in my original programming, yes.” 

Dean props himself up on an elbow to look at Cas. “Does that feel different than things you remember reading? Like, is there a difference between your memory of processing it and my memory from reading it the regular human way?” 

Cas’s eyes on Dean are a little too intense, like he’s looking for something in Dean. “No one has ever asked that before.” 

“But you have reactions and opinions about the books you know, right? We could talk about McCarthy.” 

Cas smiles, not at all tentative. “Yes, we could.” 

“Not right this second though. You wore me out,” Dean says, laying his head back on Cas’s shoulder, staring at the side of his neck and then running his fingers over the stark black logo. “You know, I always thought this thing looked like a snitch.” 

“It’s ugly.” 

“Nah, it’s not. It’s kinda like all these damn freckles I have.” 

“I like your freckles very much. They were part of why I decided to —” Cas shuts his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. 

“Decided to what?” 

“It may have been inappropriate of me, but I happened to see an article about your business. There was a picture of you and the Google Impala you restored.” Cas’s voice gets quieter like he’s embarrassed. “You were very beautiful. I watched videos of you.” 

“Before or after you came in to the shop the first time?” 

Cas flushes all the way down his neck. “Before. And after, too.” 

“You had a crush on me,” Dean teases. “And you’re at an unfair advantage because there are no videos of you for me to watch.” 

“There are videos of other Seraphs that look like me.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t even people,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “Even if they were, they wouldn’t be  _ you.” _

Cas turns his head to press his face into Dean’s hair. “No one ever did this afterwards. The… touching.” 

“You like it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Me too.” Dean manages to press closer, the back of his mind registering the alienness of Cas’s skin being so soft with so little warmth. “I want you to stay but — I really was up all night and I’m going to crash at any second. Probably pretty boring for you.” 

“I don’t mind. May I read your books?” 

“Yeah, o’course.” 

Dean shifts just enough for Cas to take his arm back. Dean’s eyes are heavy with sleep but he’s still awake enough to admire Cas coming back in the bedroom with a stack of books. 

“You’re wearing a lot of clothes still,” Dean says. 

Cas looks down like he’s not sure if it’s true or not. “Oh, yes. Would you like me to take them off?” 

Dean nods and closes his eyes, smiling when the bed dips and Cas pulls Dean back into his arms. “Dean,” Cas says, and waits for Dean to  _ hmm?  _ into his shoulder before continuing. “I’ve decided sensation, both emotional and physical, is a kindness, not a cruelty.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

 

An android walks into Dean’s shop every day, and they take machines apart and put them back together again, disagreeing about music and books and how to design more efficient robots. Cas insists Dean could fix some of his badly-designed processes and Dean insists he’ll never risk it. And anyway, he likes _all_ of Cas’s parts. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm doing slightly better at answering comments than i used to, but i still often find myself not knowing what to say. but trust me: i love and appreciate every single one. :)


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